


More Than Coffee Ever Could

by immediateinfatuation



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, IronStrange, M/M, Morning After, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immediateinfatuation/pseuds/immediateinfatuation
Summary: In which Stephen Strange, after a night of passion with Tony Stark, meets Peter Parker, the billionaire's adopted six-year-old son, by chance occurrence.





	More Than Coffee Ever Could

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Лучше, чем кофе](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570418) by [victoria_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoria_holmes/pseuds/victoria_holmes)



> not only is this the first ironstrange fic i've written it's the first marvel fic i've written as well so be nice please! fyi: this is slightly au, no one's a superhero & peter/spidey is 6 & is the adopted son of tony!

Stephen Vincent Strange awoke with an irrepressible urge to piss, a persistent pang in his head, and with pink semicircles beflecked across his body like freckles, the latter of which was consequential of the impossibly unsoiled fingernails of the man whose bed he was currently occupying.

That man was the one and only Tony Stark, New York’s most eligible bachelor and an immensely affluent innovator to boot, and although hours had elapsed since their tryst, Stephen was still nonplussed by the actuality that the billionaire had been acquiescent towards being seen sauntering around town with the likes of him; because although he too was extraordinarily erudite, he was nowhere near as wealthy, nor was he as reputable for being perpetually spouseless.

When Tony had dropped by the hospital at which he worked to ask the neurosurgeon to dinner, he had presumed his proposal was a ploy to obtain even more publicity than that which surrounded him incessantly, but it had not been that at all. No, the philanthropist had assured him that despite the standoffish manner he oftentimes displayed, he had been covertly captivated by the obsidian-haired clinician for quite some time, a divulgence Stephen hadn’t foreseen, but appreciated nevertheless.

Truth be told, Stephen had likewise lusted after the wealthier man, he just hadn’t expected his affections to ever be reciprocated. But they had most certainly been requited last night, and the subtle, yet unmistakable, soreness of his haunches evidenced that.

When Tony had bestrode his undraped back, his erection rubbing up against the neurosurgeon’s thigh and inching upwards until it hovered above his anus, he had promised to enervate him so eminently that the languorousness he would experience the ensuing morning would be so unbelievably intense that not even the bitterest coffee could eradicate of it.

He had been true to his word, all right; for, when the urge to piss had become so irrepressible it was physically agonizing, Stephen was indeed languorous, and so immensely, in fact, that it didn’t once occur to him to step into his boxers before emerging from the bedroom. He stumbled into Tony’s hallway and immediately made a beeline for the bathroom; however, his timing couldn’t have possibly been any more or any less infelicitous, for he very nearly collided into Peter Parker, a six-year-old boy with deep brown eyes (the color of which corresponded with his sleep-mussed hair, Stephen observed) who Tony had adopted two years prior.

With the razor-sharp reflexes of, well, a neurosurgeon, Stephen obscured his manhood with his hands and, although he wasn’t religious by any means, especially now that he was cognizant of what most world religions considered unscrupulous (such as homosexuality and evolution), implored the god he had worshipped all throughout his childhood that the boy hadn’t glimpsed anything that would irrevocably uproot his innocence; because although technically they shared the same genitalia, Stephen’s was considerably larger, and currently even more so, on account of what he referred to as “nocturnal penile tumescence.”

“Hi,” Peter said nonchalantly whilst he rubbed the remnants of slumber from his eyes, “I’m Peter. Who are you?”

Stephen admired the child’s insouciance and ingenuousness, envied it, even. Perhaps it was his paternal propensity, but he felt compelled to preserve Peter’s naiveté, for innocence is a precious, impermanent thing that ceases all too soon.

“I’m a friend of your father’s,” He answered, flabbergasted by the fact that he hadn’t faltered once.

“Why are you naked?”

“Well, uh, you see—” Stammered Stephen, wishing his brain was overflowing with fitting falsehoods instead of medical terminology that, when recited aloud, would lull practically everybody, save for a select few, to sleep, “I, uh—this is how I sleep.”

“Oh.” Stephen was afraid he would pry further, that he would have to provide the boy a more intimate enquiry, but fortuitously, he didn’t have to. “Bye, friend of Daddy’s.”

And with that Peter entered the bathroom and proceeded to do what Stephen had intended to do since he woke. That is, piss.

His bladder on the brink of bursting like a balloon, Stephen returned to Tony’s bedroom, where the billionaire was thumbing his smartphone, presumably ascertaining whether Stark Industries’ stocks had skyrocketed overnight.

“I met your son,” Stephen mentioned, and at this Tony placed his phone facedown on his nightstand and patted the unoccupied half of his bed persistently until at last Stephen succumbed to the playboy’s advances, lying alongside him and allowing his forefinger to fiddle with the few stubborn strands of hair that, for reasons unbeknownst to them both, simply could not adhere to the rest of his hair, regardless of how much hair gel he applied.

“’Didja now?”

“Um, yes.”

“And?”

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, well, water is also wet. Of _course,_ he’s cute, this is my son we’re talking about here, Strange. I bet he woke you right the hell up.”

“More than coffee ever could.”

“Does he like you, at least?”

“As far as I could tell, yes.”

“Oh, thank heavens. Because, believe it or not, I was actually considering extending our one night-stand from, well, one night, to an indeterminable amount of them, if you catch my drift.”

Stephen blinked more times than what was probably socially, and ophthalmologically, preferable, because in truth, he had expected their affair to extend no further than a single night, had expected it to be as equally meaningless as any of the multifarious others Tony had had over the years.

So, needless to say, the certitude that Tony didn’t consider him as disposable as drug dealers and other such miscreants might consider flip phones is what emboldened Stephen to plant an impassioned kiss upon the playboy’s unsuspecting lips.

“One more thing.” Stephen said when they parted.

“Hmm?”

“I need to pee.”

“You can do it on me if you’d like.”

But alas, all that Tony received in response to that was a pillow to the face.

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback isn't mandatory, although it is welcome! <3


End file.
